


For The Unwary

by micehell



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Humor, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-05
Updated: 2005-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan reads something he should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Unwary

‘After 5000 years, give or take, I sometimes find myself falling into a ‘been there, done that’ sort of attitude about sex.’

The entry was recent. If it had been from one of the older journals, Duncan might have used his love of history as his excuse.

‘Men and women of a host of descriptions, in a myriad of positions. In private, in public. For money, or paying. In ones and twos, in groups beyond my memory to count.’

Or even the somewhat justifiable compulsion to make sure there were no more nasty surprises in the old man’s past.

‘In beds, on floors. On horseback, in cars. On one notable occasion, from a chandelier, though we were both pretty foxed at the time. I also seem to remember something about a trained bear, but that might have just been the laudanum.’

But those would have just been excuses anyway. The truth of the matter was that he was curious. What does a 5000-year-old man like? What hasn’t familiarity bred a contempt for after so long?

‘I’ve long since lost my sense of wonder at the physical act of sex, but…. But, sometimes, the right face, the right voice, the right laugh, the right… person can draw my interest like the lure of sex cannot.’

Curious and… interested. So much of Methos was smoke and mirrors, but the real parts that showed through were fascinating. Even beyond the idea of his age, the man himself was attractive, both from an emotional and a physical point of view. And Duncan had always fallen the hardest when all of those elements were present. Which is why he’d continued to let Methos stay with him, long past any reasonable expectations of hospitality. Which is why he’d taken the opportunity of Methos’ absence to try to get some answers, since it was unlikely he’d get any from the actual source.

‘But the one constant, the one pleasure that has never palled and is always to hand, so to speak, has been the one you can provide yourself.’

Duncan looked at that line again. Methos wanked? Surely that pleasure would dim after such a long life. Not that it had for Duncan yet, but then he was only a paltry 400.

‘After everything I’ve done, and everything that’s been done to me, both good and bad, it’s comforting to have a… partner you can always trust. Where the sex is never rushed, or dragged out beyond consideration. Where there’s no pain except what you choose to give. No obligation. No surprise. A thing to truly be appreciated.’

Well, Duncan could certainly see that point. He’d been surprised by his sexual partners, and not in a good way, a few too many times himself. But he still had a hard time seeing Methos jerking himself off.

‘You can lie on your comfortable bed, surrounded by scents and sounds of your choosing. Feel the crispness of cotton, a pleasure in itself, against your bare skin as you slide a lazy hand around your chest. Across a nipple. Just a tease at first, then harder, circling the nub with a spit-slick finger; tugging it, pinching it. Feeling the pull of it in a line to your cock, already beginning to stir at the sensation.’

Duncan stopped reading when he found himself fingering one of his nipples through his shirt. What the hell was he doing here? It was one thing to read Methos’ journal, which he really shouldn’t be doing, but it was another to get off on it. He needed to stop this now.

‘You move to the other nipple, now, giving it the same loving treatment as the first. But your other hand has decided to play, moving to circle your navel, to follow that trail down. But not all the way. Not yet. Run it down the groove between hip and leg. Along an inner thigh that quivers in anticipation, the wisp of the small hairs there a counter to the smooth flesh, another tactile pleasure.’

Duncan had his shirt hiked up, his pants undone, the writing a roadmap to the pleasure he was feeling. He really shouldn’t be doing this. It was wrong. And what if Methos walked in? It didn’t help his state of mind any that that thought brought him to full hardness, even as his hands continued to play.

‘You give one nipple a hard tweak, squeezing tight, as your other hand pulls firmly on your balls, the small pains a greater pleasure, and your cock twitches at both. Leaving your nipples, swollen from handling, you move your hand down to stroke along your cock, even as your other hand cups your testicles, rolling them in their sac. An open hand at first, moving around the swollen head, the swollen shaft, swollen need.’

His pants were around his knees now, and he’d had to take the journal to the table, needing a chair to support him, his trembling legs not being the surest thing. His cock was harder than it’d been in just about forever, already leaking pre-cum in a steady stream. At this rate, he wasn’t going to last long.

‘Now you grip your cock hard, rubbing a finger along the slit, dragging all of them along the large vein beneath, pulling up with a firm grip that sends drops of ejaculate oozing along the head. You grip harder, pumping quickly, the ultra-sensitive head being rubbed by the calluses on your fingers, a little harsh, but a lot good. You’re panting, your balls drawing up in your hand as you feel the orgasm approaching. Your hand is a blur, your extensors straining, your cock straining, and a hard pull at your clenched balls sends you falling over the edge.’

Duncan came with a shout, vision whited out in pleasure, body a tight arc in the chair. He pulled that final pulse of semen out of his cock, and let his body relax; a boneless heap of satiated flesh. His nerves still thrumming with remembered pleasure, he decided that Methos had a wonderful career ahead of him as a writer of porn when the whole academic gig came to an end.

He thought about getting up, taking a shower, hiding the evidence of what he’d done before Methos came back, and had to force himself to care enough to do it. He closed the journal.

And opened it back up, the quick glimpse of his name too strong a lure to ignore. ‘After all the things you’ve found out about me, Duncan, about my past, after all the lies you’ve heard or think you’ve heard, know that one of the first things I said to you is absolutely true. I am just a guy. And like other guys, I like a good wank every now and then. And if you were curious, all you had to do was ask.’

And closed the book again. It had been a set-up. The whole entry meant to lure him in. Typical. Of course, if he hadn’t been snooping, he wouldn’t have fallen for it, so, really, he’d walked into this one all by himself. Also typical.

Regardless of the old man’s devious nature, which he actually sort of liked, though he’d never tell Methos that, the whole thing had actually worked out pretty well. He’d learned a few things about Methos. He might have even learned a couple of things about himself, though that exhibitionist tendency was a little bit disturbing. And he’d had great sex, even if it had been with his own hand.

And while he might not believe that Methos was just a guy, he’d come to the heartening revelation that he at least was one. Not a myth, not a nightmare, but a guy. And a guy who didn’t just like to masturbate, but liked sex, if it was with the right face, the right voice, the right laugh, the right person. Which Duncan didn’t doubt he was, whether Methos had realized it yet or not. Though considering the elaborate ruse he’d set up….

Whistling to himself, Duncan got to work. He had a lot of things to get ready before Methos came home.

/story


End file.
